But
her hair was so full of shadows: it wanted something to relieve it. Also
she approved the curved line of her bare arms. It was certainly very
beautiful, a woman's arm. She took her gloves in her hand and went down.
Mr. Phillips was not yet in the room. Mrs. Phillips, in apple-green with
an ostrich feather in her hair, greeted her effusively, and introduced
her to her fellow guests. Mr. Airlie was a slight, elegant gentleman of
uncertain age, with sandy hair and beard cut Vandyke fashion. He asked
Joan's permission to continue his cigarette.
"You have chosen the better part," he informed her, on her granting it.
"When I'm not smoking, I'm talking."
Mr. McKean shook her hand vigorously without looking at her.
"And this is Hilda," concluded Mrs. Phillips. "She ought to be in bed if
she hadn't a naughty Daddy who spoils her."
A lank, black-haired girl, with a pair of burning eyes looking out of a
face that, but for the thin line of the lips, would have been absolutely
colourless, rose suddenly from behind a bowl of artificial flowers.
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